And In The Curves, I Found You
by AScytheToDieFor
Summary: Levi is a businessman, unhindered by stereotypes, but sometimes unreasonably blase. Eren Jaeger is a young artist with an eye for colors. He also happens to be the boy that Levi has been enamored with for the past three weeks. Rated T for mild language. Levi/Eren.


**Hey there, reader. I see you've found this magnificent-ass oneshot of mine. It's my first SNK story. So please, don't bash me too hard.**

**After joining the ever-so-lovely Shingeki no Kyojin fandom, I became obsessed with this pairing. Eren/Levi. I think it's extremely cute. So, I put together a little modern AU for you all, since I was in the mood to write some fluffy-ass romance (even though I'm used to writing humor and crack). I apologize if the Lance Corporal is wayyy out of character. I tried, and it's the thought that counts, right? Right.**

**(Random side note of badassityness: I think adding ass to the end of a word really accentuates it's meaning, don't you think? I learned from the best *coughcoughheichouandhisbigasstreescoughcough*.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: If SNK/AOT was mine...Eren and Levi would be a canon couple. Mikasa Ackerman would be dead.**

_"I find him in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain colours." ~Oscar Wilde_

Levi was never a man of many words. He honestly believed that one's actions were the merit and the soul of the reputation one was given by all judgmental beings that roamed the Earth, ready to slay others with their cutting words. One's actions were the very parts of a person that defined them. Not the looks, the feel of their hair and skin, the color of their eyes, or the brightness of their smile.

And this was Levi's principle. He walked around everyday with a single urge flowing through his being- he did not care what others said about him. How others saw him, spoke to him, or portrayed them in the curtained and veiled mental theaters of their conscience. He was himself, him, purely LEVI, and it did not matter what anyone else thought about him. He had a personality, he would act accordingly, and his actions would justify him.

Levi was a businessman too. According to the maiming and wounding stereotypes, businessmen were a species all to their own, wandering savages with a lust for a dollar and a penchant to murder their rivals. Levi was unlike that, he was not shrewd or manipulating in the least when it came to his business dealings with other homo sapiens. Instead, the man was a different kind of entrepreneur, the kind with distinct ideals and a brutally honest way of conversing with others. He spoke his mind, he made sure others knew he spoke his mind, and left it at that.

He lived in a city of glowing lights and a burning furnace of passion for the arts. He could walk down the street on his way to the office with a charring cup of coffee in one calloused hand. On the way his very life essence would bathe in the rich and soothing melodies of the songs that street musicians played. He would pass brick walls stained joyfully with bright colors of neon and pastel graffiti.

It was a part of his city that was original, that was fresh and inspiring and lovely and every else that came with an artistic hodge podge of cultural splatters and inkblots.

Levi didn't love much in the cruel world. But he loved it. He loved this.

It was a sunny but blustery day towards the end of March as Levi began the mundane but peaceful walk towards the offices. He shoved his right hand in his pocket and gazed at the trees, saplings on which brand new, young leaves were beginning to sprout.

A jazz band was on the corner of Eve and Stolson today, playing a ragtime sounding tune that made Levi's toes tap in his loafers. He permitted himself to give a small half smile, his head nodding in rhythm with the beat that seemed to strike it's way into his heart. Levi was no romanticist, but music, arts, the loving embrace of an artistic scene pleased him.

He finished a day of long work, boring work, work that certainly had not enriched his life from the moment he stepped through the office's huge double doors. He was a bit grumpy from the day's so called adventures, and was quite frankly pissed off. He did not like having to deal with the sociopathic morons and apathetic dumbasses that seemed to populate his workplace.

It was sufficient to say Levi was grumpy on that day, a bit more grumpy than usual. He decided a nice hot cup of tea and something sweet might whet his appetite for happiness and cheer, so he decided to stop near a local cafe and grab a bite to eat, along with the aforementioned hot drink.

The bells above the door rattled merrily as he stepped into the cafe and got in line. He ordered a cup of steaming hot Earl Grey and a danish, and decided to sit outside. Perhaps some nice and sweet fresh air would brighten his mood.

Levi took a seat on a park bench, spreading a napkin on his lap and lying the danish on it, careful, precise, and meticulous as always. He took a sip on the tea, the hot cup scalding his hands. At the moment, the man was not doing anything, just staring aimlessly into space and absentmindedly sipping at his beverage.

Until he saw him.

He looked young, that was for sure, but the age reflected in his eyes was boundless and unfathomable. He stood poised and ready, his paintbrush held aloft as if he was a maestro, a conductor of colors. Thick brunette eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and he bit his lip, looking at the canvas before him at many different angles. He was beautiful too, with accentuated cheekbones, a slim swimmer's build, and large, expressive eyes.

The boy was beautiful. Levi was captivated by the beauty that presented itself to him, and he stared for so long at the utter PERFECTION of this mysterious boy that had appeared in front of his eyes. He did not realize the boy staring back, his pink lush lips forming a small 'o' with curiosity and surprise.

"Erm...is there something you need?" He inquired politely.

Levi shook himself out of his reverie, donning again that stoic expression that tended to dominate his face. He huffed. "Nothing at all. You may return to whatever you were doing."

But it seemed like the young artist's interest was piqued. "What's your name, sir?"

Levi didn't answer, trying to clear his head of any incriminating thoughts that might tarnish his view of the boy. Because right now, he was most certainly NOT thinking of bending the angel over and taking him right then and there.

"...Um, hello? Are you dead or something?"

"Levi. I'm Levi."

"Levi. I really like your name, Levi. It suits you."

Dammit. That smile, that angelic, ever present smile that flitted across the boy's face for just about the fifth time during their brief conversation. He swore, now that he had met a being with such ethereal perfection, perfection that he intended to make his own. That perfection, the never ebbing flames of that perfection, they were tearing them to pieces, they were breaking him, boiling his insides like an emotional soup. He wanted that perfection, wanted it like a desolate sky wants a moon to adorn it at night. And that perfection would be his, the perfection liked his name, and the perfection was carrying this awkward beginning-of-a-brand-new-friendship conversation with him, and it was all so overwhelming, the longer he stared into those sea green eyes, the more he wanted to pull every ebony strand of hair out of his head, and his senses, they were flooding with some sort of ecstasy that was a stranger, he was in love, love at first sight, he knew what the fabled poets and scholars and daft politicians remarked on, he was feeling it, living it, being it, and he had to leave before he did something he seriously regretted-

"Levi?"

The next day, still rattled from finding his other half (or at least what he thought the painter was, he was beautiful and lovely and everything that Levi didn't know he found attractive in others, especially another male) Levi took a long walk to work. He needed time to ruminate, to investigate, and to ponder these sudden intimate urges that had shown themselves much too late.

His thoughts were fixated on that boy, that man, that alluring artist in the park, the one that captured his heart with a simple look in the eyes. The one that held his heart, now, covering it with emotion that was previously unknown to a stoic and sensible man with a frozen heart. The object of his affections had thawed it, and he was confused, he didn't know what to think. Should he embrace the warmth or stay in this horrific state of denial that was his comfort, but his weakness?

And, luck being against him, the first person he ran into on the morning commute by foot was the captivating cur of whom his thoughts sprawled upon.

"Ah, Levi right? I remember you from yesterday! Why'd you run off so suddenly, I didn't get to tell you my name." The boy looked adorably confused, his eyebrows cocking, his head tilting slightly to the side, and a lock of chocolate brown hair falling over his face. Levi resisted the urge to brush it away.

"Erm...I had some pressing business to attend to." Levi cleared his throat and adjusted his impeccably placed cravat in discomfort.

The boy smiled brightly. "Oh, I see! My name's Eren, though. Eren Jaeger."

"Eren Jaeger." Levi tried the name out, let it roll across the surface of his virgin tongue. It was a smooth name, a soft and lush name, and he thought it sounded German, But he loved it, just like he loved every other bit of the boy that stood in front of him. He was still unused to the feeling that bubbled up in his chest and shot at him from every angle, but is was terribly familiar, and primal. Just like his desire to say the boy's name over and over, shout it into the wind, whisper it into his ear…

"Yeah! So...what do you do around these parts?" The boy hefted a bag with a fold up canvas higher on his back, trying to make small talk as he did so.

"I'm a businessman." Levi stated plainly. The boy, no, EREN looked up, as if he was waiting for him to continue, but seemed to recognize that Levi was done speaking. So he fired up again.

"You are? Wow. I'm just an artist, a painter actually. Nothing as amazing as that, but I've been losing my muse lately. So I came here, because I really do love the artistic scene. But I still can't find the inspiration, y'know? I've looked everywhere, I just need something to paint."

Eren looked down forlornly, picking at a piece of lint on his hoodie.

"So...where are you headed now? D'you...want to grab a cup of coffee?"

Oh god. Was he...asking Levi out? He wanted to spend time with the businessman, even though he was gruff and unapproachable and could probably be considered boring, but Eren didn't care, Eren was young and beauteous and saw something in Levi…

"No."

Eren jolted at the harsh tone in Levi's voice, his muscles stiffening and sadness clouding his eyes. He looked down again, entwining his fingers.

"Oh...I'm sorry. I just thought…"

But Levi was already walking away, his coat flapping in the chilly wind that descended upon the city. He tightened the collar around his, pushed up his cravat for the second time that day, and made his way to the office.

He hadn't meant to come across like a harsh bastard, that was just his nature, but he didn't know what to say when his first love expressed an interest in him. He'd never been a romantic, nor had he been a closet romantic. Why were these feelings starting now, why was he so interested, so in love with Eren, and why was he behaving so completely out of character?

Why was the pain of guilt searing it's way through his chest, guilt at the heartless rejection he provided to the boy?

He finished work early, and acquired permission from the boss to leave. Levi needed the usual tea and a danish, he needed something to remind him of what life used to be like, yesterday, when the painter wasn't the thing that dominated his mind. The routine was stabilize his rollercoaster of wildly shifting emotions and thoughts. He had only been the prior day when Levi had felt at peace with art, that was a time when art wasn't consuming him from the inside out.

He looked to the side, expecting to see plain green grass. But he was instead greeted with Eren Jaeger, sitting with the canvas in his lap, painting once again with an extreme expression of concentration on his face.

It felt like deja vu.

He almost decided to go up, to apologize to Eren for the morning, and to make amends.

But he fled. Fled, like every day.

It had been weeks. To be more precise, it had been three weeks. Three whole weeks since he had that slim interaction with Eren, three weeks since he had spoken to his love, three weeks since he unthoughtfully rejected the boy he had come to love just by watching,

It had become a new routine for Levi, everyday after work. He'd grab his tea and danish, and take a seat on the exact same park bench. There, warm and content, he'd sit and watch the Jaeger boy paint, watch the expression on his face and the movement of his strong hands. He would silently observe and appreciate, every moment making him more fond of the person he had met just one.

And sometimes, he would feel eyes on his own corpse, and would see Eren staring intently back at him. But he would look away, face burning with the heat of embarrassment. A blush that suited him well, Levi thought.

But another thing was eating him, another thing that wasn't his love.

What could Eren be painting that would take him three whole weeks?

He wanted to see, he wanted Eren to let him see. It must have been something beautiful, something attractive and admirable, elegant. Like the boy's movements.

On that day three weeks later, he sat rumination as usual, when he heard a whistle.

He saw Eren looking at him, no, staring. He beckoned to Levi.

Should he stay, or should he go.

He went.

Levi stood up, carrying the tea with him, and approached the boy cautiously, fearing what was to come.

But Eren didn't say a single word.

He just held up his canvas.

The painting...it was...indescribable. Radiant. Exquisite. Fascinating. A scintillating mixture of colors that produced an artwork so vibrant it shook Levi and his appreciation for said arts to the core. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, the details were flawless, yet flawed, and the brushstrokes were innovative yet traditional.

Eren had painted the park in all it's glory. He had drawn every tree, every shrub, and every leaf in meticulous detail. The flowers' blooms opened to the sun to receive the divine light, children played in the grass amongst admiring parents, and the foliage wove in the refreshing breeze. But they were blurred, indefinite.

What really mattered was Levi.

He had painted Levi as well, Levi sitting on the bench and raising the cup of tea to his lips. Every hair on his head, every fold of his clothing, every detail was meticulously preserved and brought to life on the canvas. Levi's brows were furrowed in the painting, and he stared up at the sky with a feeling of foreboding. Gentle foreboding. His legs were crossed, his posture relaxed, and he fit right at home with the tantalizing beauty of the park around him.

The picture was breathtaking. Levi didn't bother restraining his gasp.

Eren smiled tentatively. "Do you...like it, Levi?"

Levi's eyes searched the painting, looking for a flaw, looking for anything to criticize.

He found nothing.

But he noticed one thing, one thing he hadn't noticed in his mesmerization with the rest of the painting. It was a minor detail, just a scrawled note at the foot of the canvas.

_"I find you in the curves of certain lines, in the loveliness and subtleties of certain colours. I love you. I may have much to learn about you, but it is you who has my heart. You had it from the beginning. Forever and always, Levi. ~Yours, Eren."_

Levi answered his love, his light, his art, his inspiration.

He answered with a kiss. The promise of a lit future.

He threw away all of his burdens, his inhibitions, his binding ties that kept him from this love, so innocent and pure.

In the curves, he found him.

**AN: Sooo, I hope that was to your liking, everyone. That is one of the most descriptive things I have ever written in my life. I feel pretty accomplished. I've written romance before, but I really don't consider myself any good at it.**

**As an author, I love to hear feedback on my stories! If you leave me a review, I'll be very happy. Please give me suggestions as well! I love constructive criticism, as well as you all telling me ways in which to better improve my writing.**

**(Read: I'm a review eater. NOMNOMNOMNOM.)**

**If you liked this, I've written more stories for Black Butler! I'd love it if you all would check them out for me. It would mean alot.**

**One last thing. I have a friend with an account. Her name is Amberstar of Randomclan. She has started an Ouran Highschool Host Club/SNK crossover. You should read it, along with her other stories. She's in my favorite authors list. So clicky clicky and checky it outy! I'm sure she'd appreciate it too.**

**Thank you for taking the time to read this!**

**~AScytheToDieFor**


End file.
